Chapter 2

2

Lyric

I t goes on for hours and I lose track of time.

I had no idea that sex could be so enthralling.

It is otherworldly.

And I fear it’s setting a dangerous precedent.

My encounter with these three men is a one-time only deal, and I realize that the next man I meet might feel like a disappointment. I lay naked, staring at the pristine white ceiling. Artur is in the lounge area, pouring us more drinks. Ivan is in the shower. Max sits on the edge of the bed, watching me in silence.

I’m exhausted, but it is the sweetest kind of exhaustion. I’m also sore, but in a good way. Moaning softly, I turn over to look at Max. His profile is illuminated in the light of dusk, reminding me of a sculpture from the Renaissance era. A stoic man, or so he seems.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “This is where it ends,” he says to me.

I blink a few times. “Already?”

“You’re a good girl, Lyric. And we are bad men. You shouldn’t be anywhere near us.”

“Here,” Artur says as he comes back into the room. He hands me a drink and an envelope.

Frowning slightly, I take the drink and stare at the envelope. “What’s that?” I ask, but I already have an idea, an uneasy feeling working its way through my chest.

“Payment,” Artur replies.

“Excuse me?”

And just like that, we switch gears, tumbling into unfamiliar and unpleasant territory as I try to process what’s happening. Artur leaves the envelope on the bed, next to my thigh. “It’s for you and your missed interview,” he says. “You deserve it.”

“Oh, wow,” I snap, instantly scrambling off the bed and onto my feet.

Fire rages through me. Outrage. And so much shame.

“I’m not some fucking prostitute,” I state.

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Max says. “We just want to make sure you walk away with the best experience. Especially given that you were incredibly brave to do this, to trust us the way you did.”

Ivan comes out of the shower, gloriously naked and wet, steam rising from his smooth, tattooed skin. He overheard everything. “We would never view you as such. But you did miss an interview and you might experience some inconveniences after this meeting of ours. We just want to make sure you’re compensated for any discomfort that might come your way.”

“I don’t understand. Make it make sense,” I reply, hands balled into fists at my side.

“Artur here will do his best to scrub you from the hotel’s CCTV system, but we can’t guarantee a miracle, especially since I presume you went through reception before coming up here, telling them you were meeting with Jack Bowman.”

“Oh, God.” I had almost forgotten. “Shit, the police will surely want to ask me questions if and when someone reports him missing.”

“Take the money,” Ivan insists. “Consider it an incentive to keep your mouth shut. We certainly won’t be mentioning your name. As far as we’re concerned, you were never here.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Take the money,” Ivan says again, more sternly this time. “Play your part. Nothing happened. Bowman wasn’t here. You left. You don’t know anything.”

“But that’s only if the cops come asking,” Max calmly states. “Otherwise, please go on with your life. It has been a veritable and unexpected pleasure getting to know you, Lyric.”

I scoff and stomp out of the room, leaving the money behind. In mere seconds, I manage to put my clothes back on and slip into my shoes before grabbing my purse and leaving Executive Suite 208.

The men didn’t try to stop me. They didn’t say another word nor did they move from their positions in the bedroom as I stormed through the suite and into the hallway.

When I get to the elevator, I find myself looking up. There are cameras in the corners on both sides. My face burns red hot. Bile gathers in my throat. We had such a good thing going on in there, and yet…

How the hell did I get myself roped into this? I wasn’t thinking clearly. I must have been under the influence of something.

“Of what, Lyric?” I mutter to myself.

I already know the answer to that and it’s beyond shameful given the circumstances. As much as I enjoyed it, tinges of regret test my resolve as I decide to take the stairs instead. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I do know I need to get the hell out of here.

I sneak out of the hotel and head back to my car as fast as I can, flooring it all the way to my apartment, praying the cops don’t show up.

As much as I’d like to forget about what happened, the way I feel in the morning prevents me from doing so.

My muscles ache. My pussy aches. My body longs for them and I hate it. I’m angry and restless, yet I can’t stop thinking about it. I walked into that situation expecting something entirely different. They gave me an out yet I chose to stay. I can’t blame them for anything that happened.

I was in charge the entire time. All I needed to do was say stop and it would have ended. I need to accept responsibility and be honest with myself about it.

It's been quiet, so far.

I guess that’s a good thing.

My thesis might need a few changes. I don’t know what’s going to happen to Jack Bowman, and I’m wondering whether I should just keep his chapter without an interview.

Instead of panicking over what happened or over what might happen next, I decide to brew myself a cup of coffee and begin my day. I have a few things to do before I start my afternoon shift at the school library so I might as well get on with it.

Get on with my life, like Artur suggested. Pretend that nothing happened.

“Everything’s all hunky-dory,” I grumble as I slip into the shower.

Half an hour later, after dressing and downing one double espresso, I’m ready to tackle my task list. The first item is a coffee date with Shelby. Great. I love my best friend, I just don’t love the fact that she’s working for my father. It makes it awkward whenever I pop by to take her out for lunch or go shopping. Dad always wants to catch up, to talk. All I want to do is avoid yet another instance of saying, “No, Dad, I’m still not going to come work for you.”

Shelby waits for me at her desk, a few feet away from the secretary’s workstation. Linda has been with my father for a long time, too long, and one can tell just by looking at her desk. And by looking at Linda. The woman is clearly the queen over this domain.

“Good morning, Linda,” I say with a pleasant tone, praying she won’t tell my father I’m here.

“Good morning, Lyric. Matthew knows you’re here. He’ll be right out,” she replies.

“Great,” I mutter with a strained smile, just as Shelby gathers her phone and wallet and slips them into her green snakeskin purse. “Ready?” I ask.

“Almost,” she says. “Gotta make sure I set the out of office for my email.”

“Geez, Shelby, we’ll only be gone an hour.”

“Yeah, but the first round of debates is this Sunday,” she sighs. “I need to stay on top of everything.”

I give her a long look. She’s noticeably different from the girl I met in high school. She’s taller and slimmer, her pale blonde hair combed into a tight bun, her brown eyes hidden behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses. She looks killer in pencil-skirts and silk shirts. Oh, God, she’s turning into Linda. I see it clearly now as they stand side by side.

“Wow, you’ve gotten really involved,” I tell Shelby.

“Of course. You either do something right, or you don’t do it at all,” she replies as she slings her purse over her shoulder.

I nod toward the elevator doors on the other side of the bullpen. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait, your dad wanted to talk to you.”

“I’d rather—”

Too late. My father comes out of his office, instantly putting on his signature, placid, poster-boy smile. “Lyric, honey, glad to see you!”

“Hey, Dad.”

Linda watches our exchange with renewed interest. Deep down, she knows I’d probably take his campaign to the next level, but I swore off politics a long time ago. She also knows that since I’m the apple of my daddy’s eye, so to speak, she wouldn’t get as much attention as she’s used to if I were around all the time.

I can tell that she has mixed feelings about me being here in any capacity. Which just goes to prove how dangerously charming my father can be.

“Have you reconsidered my offer?” he asks, getting straight to the point as usual.

“It’s still a no for me, but thanks, Dad,” I reply. “Not sure if you remember, but I’m currently working on my doctorate thesis. As is Shelby, by the way.” I pause and give my best friend a sideways glance.

“In case you forgot why you’re working here,” I tell her.

Shelby chuckles softly. “I know that silly. It just so happens that I enjoy this internship and I’m learning way more than I had originally anticipated.”

“That’s right,” Dad says. “In fact, I’m prepared to give Shelby an official full-time offer once she’s submitted her thesis. You know, you’re missing out on an incredible opportunity, Lyric. And just as I’m about to make history.”

“Thank you again, Dad, but my algorithm doesn’t belong in politics.”

“Right, right. You’re just going to sell it to the highest bidder in corporate America,” he scoffs. And there it is, the muted bitterness of rejection. The one thing my father cannot handle well. And Shelby’s biggest issue is that she can never say no. No wonder they get along. “Anyway, you girls have a good lunch. Don’t keep Shelby too long, I need her to draft a press response by three o’clock regarding the debate.”

“Sure thing,” I say, about to roll my eyes when Linda gasps upon checking her phone.

“Oh, my God!”

“What is it?” my father asks.

One by one, phones start chirping and ringing all over the bullpen. His entire campaign is ablaze all of a sudden, with what I can only guess is unsettling news—at least, judging by the worried looks on their faces.

“Jack Bowman,” Linda says, her voice trembling with emotion. “He’s missing.”

Shit. It was bound to hit the news cycle; I’m just surprised it took so long. My father frowns. “What do you mean he’s missing?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer though. He snatches Linda’s phone and starts scrolling through the news article while Shelby lingers next to her desk. “Okay, so, what do I need to do?” my friend asks.

“Go to lunch, it’s fine,” my father replies. “I need time to figure out how we’re going to respond to this. We don’t have any details at this moment.”

“This is devastating,” Linda says.

No shit, Sherlock. Jack Bowman is a huge contributor to my father’s political campaign. He’s been a Phelps ally for as long as I can remember. Hell, I got my interview with him because of his close ties to my father.

“Lyric, didn’t you have an interview scheduled with him yesterday?” my father asks.

Suddenly, one too many eyes are trained on me. I break into a cold sweat, heat spreading through my chest as I struggle to retain my composure.

“I… um… he wasn’t there. So I left,” I manage.

“Why didn’t you call me?” my father asks, his brow furrowed with concern as he points to Linda’s phone.

I offer a faint shrug. “I didn’t think I needed to call you. I didn’t see or hear anything suspicious, he just wasn’t there. I figured something must’ve come up and his assistant would contact me to reschedule.”

“I got you that interview, Lyric. If he didn’t show up, I would think you would call me.”

“For what purpose? Are you privy to his schedule? Do you have a tracker on him?” My father’s attitude is irritating me now.

“You know what, never mind.”

“Good,” I shoot back and look at Shelby. “Ready?”

“Go ahead, Shelby. I’ll see you in an hour,” my father says.

Shelby gives me a faint smile then follows me across the bullpen and into the elevator. The farther I get from my father and the ensuing chaos surrounding Jack Bowman’s disappearance, the better. It worries me, though, now that it’s public. It’s in the news. What will the cops ask when they inevitably get to me? Even more importantly, what the hell am I going to tell them?

Once we’re out of the building and settled in one of the more private booths at Mussi and Joe’s Diner, two blocks down the road, I feel like I can breathe again. Of course, this ice-riddled Hugo appetizer cocktail is also quite good at relieving some of the pressure. It tastes great, too, so by the time the waiter comes back with our menus, I’m already ordering a second drink.

“You look pale,” Shelby says, flipping through the salad pages of an impossibly large menu. It reads more like a book. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m just tired,” I reply.

“Can’t blame you. You put so much time into that algorithm of yours.”

“Hey, it’s worth it,” I say with a half-smile. “It could redefine geopolitics in the long term.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I think it’s why your dad really wants you to work with him. I still don’t get why you won’t do it. The pay would be insanely good.”

“I can’t have my algorithm in the hands of politicians, alone. It’s nowhere near ready to be used like that,” I say, flipping over to the burgers and fries portion of the menu. “I still have years of fine-tuning ahead. If I am able to test it with the University of Chicago’s research team first, and then run a beta model with a large company or a midsized corporation right afterwards, I think I could have a more advanced model ready, in say, a decade. What my father wants is not only impractical, but also not feasible. He wants me on the market with this way sooner than I should be.”

“He wants what’s best for you,” Shelby insists.

I give her a long, hard look. “You used to be against politics altogether. Remember sophomore year? The pink hair? The grungy tees? What the hell happened?”

“I grew up,” she says, slightly irritated. “Besides, my doctorate is focused on political science. I majored in it, if you recall. It’s a little late for you to be astonished by my choice of career, Lyric, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry,” I exhale sharply. “It’s just… my dad and I have a strained relationship. You know that. It’s always been complicated between us, especially after Mom died. I guess I don’t like how close the two of you have gotten and maybe I’m a little jealous.”

Shelby smiles softly. “Your dad simply appreciates my youthful enthusiasm and the fresh outlook that I bring to the table. I could never replace you.”

“It’s not what I mean,” I mumble, wondering how to make Shelby aware of my father’s tendency to use people without offending her. “Dad tends to drain people. Of knowledge, of energy, of kindness. And when there’s nothing left for him to take, he forgets who you are.”

“Oh, no, he’s been nothing but—”

“Let me guess,” I cut her off with a flat tone. “Kind? Personable?”

“What’s wrong with him being kind and personable?”

“Under normal circumstances, nothing. But my father isn’t normal. Next thing you know, he’ll invite you into his inner circle. You’ll be rubbing elbows with his Jack Bowmans and other powerful, high-caliber campaign contributors. His fellow political heads and congressmen. His state senator buddies and their Golden Retriever aides. Next thing you know, you’re working twenty-four-seven for the man, fetching his coffee and drycleaning. You keep that up until election day, and if he wins, well, you’re looking at more of that until your body gives out. If he loses, you get sacked as he cuts his losses. I’ve seen it before, Shelby. This state senate campaign is insanely ambitious.”

“Wow, you have no faith in the man whatsoever,” she replies, her brow furrowed with dismay. “I mean, I get that you two have a complicated relationship, Lyric, but I never really understood how much you despise him.”

“What? No, I don’t despise him. That’s harsh,” I say.

It’s not that far from the truth, but it’s not the angle I’m coming from, either. I wish Shelby could understand where I’m coming from. She’s been an intern for his campaign for about two months now, and I can already see that she has lost some weight and plenty of sleep. It was supposed to be an informative internship for one chapter of her doctorate thesis. That’s all. She wasn’t supposed to get in this deep nor this close to my father, and I have to admit, I’m a little worried.

He’s not a bad man, but he is an accurate example of a higher politician in the making. I wish I could have a bit more faith in him but I know how natural he is at breaking his promises. He’s also remarkably good at making them sound extremely convincing. It worked for local council seats—three times, actually—but the state senate, that’s a whole other bucket of fish.

The waiter comes back to take our orders. Shelby goes for a flimsy shrimp salad, while I decide to eradicate an entire burger and sweet potato fries, with a slice of pecan pie at the end. After yesterday’s events, I am famished. Max, Ivan, and Artur really gave me one hell of an appetite, it seems.

“Something’s different about you,” Shelby says as we dig into our plates.

“Define different,” I reply, suddenly on edge.

“I don’t know. Glowing? Yeah, you’re glowing.” She pauses and gasps. “Ah-ha! You met someone.”

I could tell her the whole story. Shelby is my best friend, after all, and despite the minor tensions surrounding my father, I know she’d keep it a secret. But I don’t think I’m ready to hear any of the warnings that would come attached to her reaction. On top of that, I did just have mind-blowing sex with the men who kidnapped Jack Bowman. This is minefield territory, and I really need to be careful with my disclosures.

“Okay, you caught me,” I giggle softly. “I met someone.”

“Tell me everything!” she says, her eyes widening with excitement.

“There’s not that much to tell just yet. We’re only just getting to know one another. But I promise, as soon as I have a clearer picture of the guy, I’ll spill all the beans.”

Or guys.

She nods slowly. “Okay. I get it. But can you at least tell me where he works?”

“He’s in the corporate world.” It’s not as if I can exactly tell her the truth. Besides, I’m not sure myself what it is they do as mobsters.

“How old is he?”

I think of Artur, the youngest of the three. I might as well make this story as believable as possible and with fewer lies to remember down the road. “Early forties,” I say.

“Oh, wow. You went straight for a silver fox, huh?” Shelby chuckles softly. “I bet he’s handsome.”

I laugh. “Yeah, he’s handsome. Hell, he’s hot. Ripped. I’m guessing he played some kind of sport in his younger days based on his stamina. He may play still. The man can go on and on and—” I pause when I see the look of shock on my best friend’s face.

“Lyric.”

“Yeah?”

Shelby lets a heavy sigh roll from her chest. “You had sex?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re just telling this now? After I had to ask? I thought we were best friends.”

“We are! But, well, we only just met. Yesterday.”

She freezes, fork in midair, staring at me. “Lyric. Are you telling me you met this guy yesterday, and you already…”

“It was instant chemistry,” I mumble, my cheeks burning hot. “It’s hard to explain, Shelby. It just… it worked so well between us. Neither of us could stop it.”

Her phone pings, and she is quickly distracted. I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief—I know she’d keep drilling me on the subject until she gets more information out of me. And that would mean I’d have to tell more half-truths and even full-fledged lies in order to keep yesterday’s affair a secret.

“What’s going on?” I ask, watching as she feverishly reads through a string of incoming text messages. “Is that my father?”

She nods once. “Yeah. He got a call from the FBI’s Chicago field office. They’re coming over to talk to him about Jack Bowman.”

“Oh, man. It’s that serious, huh?”

“It is. Bowman is one of the most powerful people in the United States right now. The fact that he’s missing is rattling a lot of folks all over the country, not just here in Chicago.”

“And they’re asking my dad questions why, exactly?”

“They’re close friends and partners,” Shelby replies with a shrug. “If there’s anyone that knows about Bowman’s enemies or has inside information, your dad is a useful resource.”

I could be, as well, though I have no intention of telling anyone that.